


Maraschino

by anotetofollow



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: F/F, Mary and Joseph are divorcing, Tiny bit of Angst, but not a lot, just Good Things for Mary, very slight Robert Small/Generic Dadsona
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-09 10:44:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11667525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotetofollow/pseuds/anotetofollow
Summary: Robert didn't mention that Val was coming home for the holidays. Mary discovers that she likes having her around. More so than she expected.





	1. Mary Pickford

**Author's Note:**

> this is probably gonna be a very brief multipart like, 3 chapters tops - i need this pairing in my life okay
> 
> also i haven't written in ages and i am VERY rusty so sorry about thaaat (and i know there are no stones in maraschino cherries but i loved that image too much to not use it)

The bar was busier than usual that night. It was coming up to Christmas and Jim and Kim’s was full of strangers, relatives home for the holidays and spillovers from local office parties, mostly loud, universally drunk. The jukebox had been commandeered earlier in the night, and the speakers had been blasting Christmas songs for close to two hours now.

“This is hell,” Mary said, tossing back the dregs of her wine and gesturing to Neil for a refill. “If I wanted holiday cheer I would have stayed at home.”

Robert grimaced. “That bad, huh?”

“Joseph is taking the kids out carolling next week. I’ve had a fortnight of non-stop choir practice.”

“Jesus.”

“Jesus is right. I swear, if I have to hear Little Drummer Boy one more time...” Mary shook her head. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s cute the first time. After the fourteenth you start to go a little crazy.”

“Can’t he do it on the boat?”

“It’s not ‘seafaring weather’, apparently,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, I think he just does it to annoy me. Ah, well. Once the holidays are out of the way there’ll be no more of that.”

Robert took a sip of whiskey, his brow furrowing. “That’s all done then?”

“Yep. Signed, sealed, divorced. Finished the paperwork yesterday.”

“You didn’t think to tell me that earlier?”

Mary scoffed. “What’s there to tell? It’s been coming for long enough. The rest is just bureaucracy.”

“How’re the kids taking it?”

“As well as can be expected,” she sighed. “They’ll be alright. Tough little monsters, the lot of them.”

Their conversation was cut short when Neil arrived at the table with fresh drinks. He cleared their empty glasses and left without a word. Mary made a mental note to give him a decent tip when she paid the tab. Silence was a rare and admirable trait in bartenders.

“So,” Robert said, raising his glass. “Feels like a toast moment, doesn’t it?”

“A toast to what? My failed marriage?”

“Why the hell not? You were always too good for him, Mary, c’mon.”

“Alright,” she sighed, raising her glass and clinking it against his. “To fresh starts, or whatever.”

“Close enough.” Robert opened his mouth to say something else, but the sound of the bar’s front door banging open drew his attention.

Mary followed his gaze to the woman who had just walked into the room, brushing snow off the shoulders of her jacket. It took Mary a moment to recognise Val. She had met Robert’s daughter briefly that summer, but her mind had been elsewhere and they hadn’t spoken for long. Val was taller than she remembered, her dark hair cut a little shorter, but when she scowled at a passing group of frat boys there was no mistaking her Small family genes.

Robert lifted a hand to get Val’s attention, then waved her over to their table.

“You didn’t tell me Val was coming home,” Mary said, keeping her voice low.

“You didn’t tell me you got divorced,” he shrugged.

Mary didn’t have a response for that.

“Sorry I’m late,” Val said when she reached their table. “Traffic was hell.” She shrugged out of her damp jacket and sat down heavily next to Mary, nodding a greeting to her. “Hey. We met at Amanda’s graduation, right?”

Mary was oddly flattered to have been remembered. “That’s right.”

“Cool kid. Hoping she’ll come and intern for me in the spring.”

“Don’t think you need to worry about that,” Robert laughed. “It’s all she talked about last time she visited.”

Val raised an eyebrow at him. “What, you didn’t embarrass me enough as a kid, now you’re embarrassing other people’s children too?”

“I’m not-”

“Dad, I’m kidding,” she grinned. “You getting me a drink or what?”

“Sure.” Robert got up and began elbowing his way through the crowded bar, sometimes with more force than was necessary.

Mary shifted a little in her seat, strangely uncomfortable now that she was alone with Val. She usually didn’t have a problem talking to strangers in bars. Maybe it was the unmistakable aura of success that she gave off, the gold that glinted at her throat and fingers, the designer jacket. Maple Bay wasn’t exactly teeming with powerful people.

“It’s strange being back here,” Val said. “Been nearly ten years since I came home for the holidays.”

Mary smirked at her. “I don’t think you’ve missed much. This place is a time capsule.”

“You can say that again. Between the parking lot and the front door I ran into two people I went to high school with.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste. “They wanted to ‘know how my life was going’. It was grotesque.”

“It’s worse when you’ve got kids,” Mary said. “Suddenly everyone feels the need to talk to you about spelling bees and diaper brands.”

Val winced. “Oh god, that sounds awful. No offence.”

“None taken,” Mary shook her head. “I pity me too.”

Val leaned back in her seat, draping her arm across the back of the booth. “Seriously though, it’s not so bad being home.” She turned to look at Robert, who was still talking to Neil at the bar. “Good seeing Dad again.”

“How are things with you two?” Mary asked, hoping she wasn’t stepping into difficult territory.

“They’re alright,” Val nodded slowly. “We’re getting there. It’ll take time.”

Mary looked down into her wineglass, watching the ripples that formed as she turned it. It had only been a few weeks since they had told the kids about the divorce. Chris had barely spoken to her since. She wondered how much time it would take for that particular rift to mend.

Her lapse into melancholy didn’t last long, though. Robert returned with more drinks, and before long the three of them were laughing like old friends. Val had a lot of wild stories about her friends in Brooklyn, and Robert and Mary took the opportunity to talk about their own misadventures.

“I’m not kidding,” Mary said. “He’s supposed to be walking me home and then BAM, he’s off like a shot. Left me standing in the middle of town in the rain because he thought he saw a fucking jackalope.”

“It was a _wendigo_ ,” Robert corrected. “and we were two blocks from your house, tops.”

“Always the cryptids with you,” Val said, shaking her head. “It’d make a great show, actually. _Cryptid Hunting with Robert Small_. I know some folks in TV. Want me to hook you up?”

“I’m not selling out,” Robert said, folding his arms over his chest. “Well. Maybe for the right price.”

Val smirked at him. “I’ll call my guy.”

Robert’s phone buzzed loudly on the tabletop, causing all three of them to jump. He picked it up, texted furiously for a few moments, then pulled on his jacket.

“I think I’m gonna head out,” he said, knocking back the last of his whiskey.

“Going to see your boyfriend?” Val’s tone was teasing, but Robert looked suddenly uncomfortable.

“If you want me to stay-”

Val waved a dismissive hand at him. “Don’t sweat it. I’m here for the week, we’ve got plenty of time. Say hi to Amanda for me.”

Robert visibly relaxed at her words. He fished around in his pockets for his keys, then handed them to Val before he got up to leave.

“Thanks, kid. Sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“Of course.” Val placed her manicured hand on Mary’s shoulder. “Mary’s gonna keep me company. She’s more fun than you are, anyway.”

“She’s not wrong,” Mary said, feeling herself flush from the wine. Probably the wine.

“Alright, then,” Robert grunted. “Stay safe. See you tomorrow.”

The women waved him goodbye, and then the two of them were alone in their quiet corner. Most of the bar patrons had filtered out now, and the ones that were left had markedly better taste in music.

“Kind of sweet, isn’t it?” Val said, nodding towards the door that Robert had left through. “He seems happy.”

“That makes one of us.” Mary instantly regretted her reply, and took a sip of wine to hide the heat rising in her cheeks.

“Well,” Val said, turning to face her. “There’s definitely a story there.”

“Not a very original one. Recent divorce. You know the drill.”

“I see. Amicable?”

“I suppose so,” Mary sighed. “As much as shit like this can be amicable. No one’s clothes have been burned on the lawn yet.”

Val laughed at that. “Well, that’s something, at least. I split up with my girlfriend a couple of months ago. That was… well, let’s just say amicable is not the word.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright. Was a long time coming. She ate a lot of quinoa.”

There was a lull in the conversation then, not uncomfortable, and the two women sat in companionable silence until they finished their drinks.

Val insisted on getting the next round, and when she returned from the bar Mary was surprised to see her carrying a lurid pink cocktail in each hand.

“I didn’t even know they did cocktails here,” Mary said incredulously.

“Everywhere does cocktails if you tip well enough,” Val replied, flashing her teeth.

“Thought you were a whiskey drinker?”

“I’ll drink it to keep my old man happy. It’s a bonding thing. But everyone knows cocktails taste better. That’s an objective fact,” she said. “Well, go on. Give it a try.”

“Can’t hurt. As long as it’s not a margarita.” Mary took a tentative sip. It was cold and sharp and strong, with a flavour in there she couldn’t quite place. It was delicious.

Val leaned across the table expectantly. “Do you like it?”

“Not bad.”

“It’s a Mary Pickford.” Val looked tremendously pleased with her own cleverness. “Thought it seemed appropriate.”

“Cute,” Mary smirked. “Who’s this Pickford girl?”

“Silent film actress. America’s troubled sweetheart. The girl with the curls.” Val paused, then explained, “Dad made me watch a lot of old movies when I was a kid. He liked Douglas Fairbanks. _Quelle surprise_.”

The drinks came served with a single cherry, a fake, cochineal red. Val fished hers from her glass and popped it into her mouth. She chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then plucked the bare stone from between her lips and placed it on the tabletop. Drops of liquor still clung to her fingertips, and she absently sucked them clean.

It wasn’t until Val looked up at her that Mary realised she had been staring. She blinked rapidly and glanced away, just a second too late. There was no blaming her blushing on the alcohol this time.

When she dared to look back she found, to her surprise, that Val was smiling.

“Sorry,” Mary said, unsure what she was apologising for but feeling it was appropriate.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Val shook her head. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Mary’s heart skittered at those words. She tried to laugh it off, hoping against hope she didn’t look as nervous as she felt. “I doubt that.”

“I mean it,” Val pressed on, her voice suddenly serious. “You’re a beautiful woman, Mary. I get the feeling you don’t get told that enough.”

Mary didn’t know what to say to that. She flirted with men often enough, when she was lonely or bored or drunk, and they would frequently shower her with compliments. Yet somehow it felt different coming from Val. Perhaps it was how true her words had been. Perhaps it was the way she had looked straight at her while she said it, her gaze never wavering. Perhaps it was the sheer flattery of having someone as attractive as Val call _her_ beautiful.

A few seconds of silence passed, and Val stiffened in her seat. “I’ve made you uncomfortable,” she said. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”

“Not at all,” Mary replied, a little too quickly. “You’re just… you’re right. It’s been a while.”

The lazy smile spread across Val’s face again. “That’s a damn shame.”

Mary opened her mouth to speak, but was cut off when Neil called out for closing time. There was a collective groan from the remaining patrons, and Mary felt her stomach sink with disappointment. Something had been about to happen then, something new and strange and compelling, and with a word from Neil it had been snatched away from her. Maybe he wouldn’t get his tip after all.

“Hey,” Val said, placing her fingers lightly against Mary’s arm. “I’m going back to Dad’s house. Can’t vouch for the state of the place, but I know he’ll have booze. Want to try a few more cocktails?”

Mary hesitated for half a breath. “Sure,” she said. “Sounds good.”


	2. Manhattan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to Skeeter Davis' The End of the World on repeat while I was writing this and it's a Good Ambience I recommend it

They got a cab back to Robert’s house, even though it was just around the corner. The evening’s light snow had turned heavy while they were in the bar, settling an inch thick on the icy ground.  
  
“They’re saying it’s gonna be a blizzard,” the cab driver yelled over the radio. “Worst in twenty years.”  
  
“Is that so?” Val said, feigning interest.  
  
“That’s right,” he nodded. “I remember that winter. So much snow you couldn’t get the door open…"  
  
The driver carried on talking, monologuing to the windshield. Mary had to choke back laughter as Val encouraged him, asking banal questions in all the right places. The poor guy was oblivious to their mockery.  
  
“You lived in Maple Bay long, sir?” Val asked. In the dark of the backseat she slid her hand across the upholstery, her fingers finding Mary’s and twining around them.  
  
Mary’s stomach flipped over. She hadn’t been imagining it then, that little spark between them. It hadn’t just been a boozy fantasy. Her chest grew tight as the reality of that set in. They were going home together, and Mary was sure it wasn’t just as friends.  
  
As if reading her mind, Val gave Mary’s hand a reassuring squeeze. The streetlamps outside threw her face in profile as she turned around and smiled at her. Mary managed a shaky smile back. _I’m in uncharted waters now_ , she thought, then scowled as she realised how much like Joseph she sounded.  
  
She resolved not to think about him again. Not tonight.  
  
After what seemed like forever the cab pulled up in the cul-de-sac, and Val gave the driver a generous tip with his fare  
  
“Merry Christmas to you too, ladies!” he called as they climbed out.  
  
They waved goodbye to him, and collapsed into laughter once he had driven away. They clung onto each other like cackling teenagers as they tottered up to the front door  
  
“Wow,” Val said as she fumbled with the keys. “What a guy."  
  
“Who knew the weather of Maple Bay could be so interesting?” Mary snorted.  
  
“Not me.” Val gave the door a firm push and it swung open.  
  
Mary had been to Robert’s place many times, and she had never seen it look so clean before. Clean was an overstatement, perhaps, but at least she didn’t have to wade through empty bottles and dirty laundry for once.  
  
“Wow,” Val said, looking around the room appraisingly. “It doesn’t look like a dystopian hellscape.”  
  
“Probably for your benefit.” Mary moved a stray ashtray off the couch and sat down, kicking off her shoes.  
  
“Maybe,” she shrugged. “More likely his new beau’s got something to do with it. I should write him a thank you note.”  
  
Val took off her jacket and hung it off the back of a chair. Her bare arms prickled with gooseflesh, and Mary wondered absently how she could warm her up. The thought sent her blushing again, and Mary couldn’t help but laugh at herself. When was she ever this bashful?  
  
Val had found the liquor cabinet and was rummaging through it with interest. “Jeez. We’ve got a lot of options. What’s your poison?”  
  
“Hmm.” Mary thought for a moment. It had been years since she last went out for cocktails. “Manhattan?”  
  
Val nodded. “Sure. Alright. You’re testing my Brooklyn loyalties, but I’ll see what I can do.” She pulled a few bottles out of the cabinet and took them through to the kitchen, her heels clicking on the tiles.  
  
Mary watched as she set about mixing their drinks. The way she poured and measured the liquor was effortless, and had a flair about it that looked practised.  
  
“You’ve done this before,” Mary said, tucking her bare feet under her as she leaned against the back of the couch.  
  
“I have,” Val replied. “Did a lot of bartending in college. Worked at a few of those fancy places where they throw the bottles around.”  
  
“Can you still do that?”  
  
“Let’s see shall we?” Val picked up a bottle of vermouth by the neck and tossed it into the air. She fumbled the catch, barely managing to grab it before it hit the floor. “Yikes. I guess not.”  
  
A minute later she had finished their drinks. She brought them to the couch and sat next to Mary, passing one over to her.  
  
“Cheers,” she said, touching their glasses together.  
  
“Cheers,” Mary echoed. She took a sip and was instantly flooded with memories of hotel bars, old friends who laughed at her jokes. “Damn. Must have been fifteen years since I had one of these.”  
  
“Sorry the glasses aren’t right. Dad isn’t exactly a cosmo guy.”  
  
“Don’t worry about it. Pretty sure this would taste good out of a shoe.”  
  
Val got up, drink in hand, and walked across the room to Robert’s old record player. She thumbed through the stack of vinyl on the floor and picked one, placing it carefully on the turntable. A woman’s voice floated out of the speakers, gentle and old-fashioned.  
  
“You like Skeeter Davis?” Val asked.  
  
“Not sure I’ve ever heard her.”  
  
“She’s great.” Val returned to the couch. When she sat down Mary was certain she was closer than she had been before.  
  
“You like this old stuff, don’t you?” Mary asked. “Old movies, old music.”  
  
“What did you think I’d be into? Black metal? Slasher flicks?” she laughed. “Well, I am, I guess. But I like this stuff too. There’s something kitsch about it. Formica countertops. Maraschino cherries. Suburban housewives.”  
  
Mary quirked a half-smile at her. “Is that what I am? Kitsch?”  
  
“I wouldn’t say that,” Val shook her head. “I think you’re a little more than a curiosity, Mary.”  
  
There was that silence again, hanging heavily between them. Mary was grateful for the soft music in the background. Without it that quiet moment might have been too much for her to bear.  
  
While they spoke Val’s arm had moved along the back of the couch until it was almost around Mary’s shoulders. She lifted her hand and took a strand of Mary’s hair between her fingers, twisting it lazily around her thumb. Again Mary felt a shiver run up her spine, and wondered how someone could have such an effect on her while barely touching her.  
  
“I like hanging out with you, Mary,” Val said, her voice low. “I’d be perfectly happy just to sit here and drink cocktails and talk, if that’s what you wanted.”  
  
“Yeah?” Mary’s throat constricted around the single word.  
  
“I just want you to know I’ve got no ulterior motives, that’s all.” Val had let the lock of Mary’s hair fall, and was now running her fingers along the curve of her jaw. “I wouldn’t want you to think I was trying to use you for anything. That’s all.”  
  
“I don’t.”  
  
“Good.” A smile flickered across Val’s lips, full and shining in the low light. “So stop me if you want to.”  
  
Mary swallowed. “Stop you doing what?”  
  
“This.” Val took Mary’s chin in her hand and tilted her face upwards, then leaned forward and kissed her. For a moment Mary could do nothing but sit there, frozen with shock. After a moment the tension melted away and she gave into it, returning the kiss cautiously at first, then with more fervour.  
  
It had been a long time since she had kissed anyone new, but she couldn’t remember it ever feeling like this before. Val’s lips were soft and warm, and there was something precise about her movements. Men always kissed like they were trying to win a medal for it. This was something different entirely.  
  
Val’s fingertips trailed over Mary’s back as they kissed, stroking up to the nape of her neck and down the length of her spine. There was nothing rushed about it, nothing aggressive, and still that simple touch held more passion in it than Mary had felt in years. She lost all concept of time for a while, and when Val broke away from her it could have been a minute later or an hour.  
  
“You okay there?” Val said, half-smiling at her.  
  
“I think so,” Mary breathed. “I might need another drink, though.”  
  
Val laughed. “Your wish is my command.”  
  
She returned to the kitchen to fix another cocktail, leaving Mary dazed on the couch. She felt stunned, and was certain the alcohol was only a tiny part of it. Even with her lips still tingling, it almost felt as though the kiss hadn’t happened. Had she gone a little crazy for a minute there? It certainly didn’t seem impossible.  
  
When Val came back she handed Mary her drink and took a long swig of her own. “That really is good, if I do say so myself.”  
  
Mary didn’t understand how she could be so calm when she herself felt like she was about to have a heart attack. Out of practise, she guessed. Val was probably used to having people want to kiss her.  
  
She took a sip of her own drink, mostly to have something to do with her hands. After she had swallowed Val gently took the glass from her hand and placed it down on the coffee table.  
  
“I’m gonna kiss you again now,” Val said. “That alright with you?”  
  
Mary managed to drum up some of her usual confidence as she nodded. “I think I can make my peace with it.”  
  
Her hands tight on Mary’s waist, Val drew her closer until they were half-lying on the threadbare couch. There was an urgency to their kiss this time, an intensity that had been missing from their first cautious touches. Mary found herself open to it, her initial hesitation drifting away by degrees. For the first time in a long time she felt like she was a part of something real and exciting, not just a participant in some dull performance of intimacy.  
  
They only broke apart when the record scratched into silence.  
  
“Damn,” Val breathed. “Short album.”  
  
“Anything else suitably kitsch in the collection?” Mary grinned. She felt giddy, half-drunk, her skin warm wherever Val had touched it.  
  
Val laughed at that. She pushed Mary’s hair back from her face, tucking it neatly behind her ear. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to go check out my old room. Hasn’t been touched since I went to college. You can laugh at all my old posters.”  
  
“That’s the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”  
  
“You got me,” Val shrugged. “Flimsy pretence.”  
  
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”  
  
“Well then,” she smiled. “Follow me.”  
  
Val led her to the small bedroom at the back of the house. As promised, it was a relic of a moody adolescence. Surly looking bands with violins sulked out of the posters on the walls, and the bookshelf was heavy with Poe and Shelley.  
  
“Damien would be proud,” Mary said to herself, examining the scraps of black lace thrown over the lamps.  
  
“Is that the guy with the cape I met at the barbecue?” Val asked. “You have to introduce us. Love a bold sartorial choice.” She wandered around the room, flicking on lamps and lighting the stubs of dusty candles. When she was done she turned off the main light and the room was bathed in a warm, dappled glow.  
  
“You really know how to make a girl feel special, huh?”  
  
Val sat on the edge of the bed, chuckling. She extended a hand towards Mary. “Honey, you have no idea.”  
  
This time Mary didn’t hesitate. She let Val pull her down onto the bed, laughing as the two of them tried to comfortably occupy the single mattress.  
  
Mary wasn’t sure who started kissing who, and within half an hour she didn’t care.


End file.
